Every time I cry gunshots
or doorbells
ring out
across the sky.

When the horses disappeared I didn't realize
how much it would hurt.
Now I know.

Not this.

I walk out to the area
of proposed land
use
action. It is quiet
and calm at the deep blue twilight and fogged over snowy mountains loom above

the trees
don't seem to know there is danger looming
around the corner
just a harmless sign.

I wandered around
the land, the little out-buildings
of the old ranch.

I suppose they were once intrusions too, but now
they are embedded, blended and broken
down with the decay that blesses life.

I wander deeper onto the land to get a view
of the house and wonder
if they will knock it down
to make room for the new ones
--what a waste.

The side-stairs on the porch are still bright with the tree's life.
New, not weathered.
What a waste
of death.

My eye sees life
in a figure on the porch--
a large tabby sits on the top
stair staring somber
out across the field
alert not peaceful
like the day.
She feels the coming change and is starting to say
goodbye.

I watch her for a while until she looks up
noticing me.
She stares into my eyes from across the distance
knowingly
[refugees]

I turn to walk away and glimpse a quaint structure far below at the riverside. I walk down
to the lower field to look and can't see
anything but it reminds me. "Shoreline
development"
and I wonder how far they will go.

The horseshoe pits stand lonely together already
knowing of change.

I start walking up
the hill but am drawn down
to my knees.
My hands clutch the ground and I try
to cry. My whole body is filled
with tears but I can't release them.

I touch the ground with apologetic
fingers and stand and walk
past a stand of trees and turn
to them saying
"I will try."

The broken silence invites the chirping of birds in reply
and I cry at the thought of the nest
in the tree
being felled
in the spring.

I imagine tying myself
to it and I make a promise
to it: "I will try."

I walk away
and all I can think is No.
No
No No
No No
No
More
of this.
"I don't want
this!"

I slip back into
the woods and down the windy path, to where it meets the slope above the wild
green north
west middle
fork river.

More tears.

How many times has this place healed me with its surprising
wildness?
[If I turned around from the wooded river-ed land I could see into
the yards and houses of
Wood.
River.
but I don't.
]

Facing the sloping forest I am transported and healed by the sappy
tree that I like to hug when I need a big one.
I run to it and fall into its arms
and sob.

"What do I do?"
"What do I do?"

The tree holds me and lets me cry
[GUNSHOT!] and I
lay down.

I curl up pressing
my face against the mossy base,
and watch the river
change.

"Do animals make a human cry
when their loved one staggers
fowled dragged down
the blue veined river
Does the female wail
miming the wolf of suffering
do lilies trumpet the pup
plucked for skin and skein

Do animals cry like humans
as I having lost you
yowled flagged
curled in a ball

This is how
we beat the icy field
shoeless and empty handed
hardly human at all

Negotiating a wilderness
we have yet to know
this is where time stops
and we have none to go."

-Patti Smith, "Wilderness"

_______________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________

 

Rattlesnake

The ice was already cracked
but we still skated across it like ducks.

I walked on water
and watched it breathe beneath the layer
I trusted

and breathed softly


The dry air sucked the moisture from my cheeks and left them sticky
with salt.

It was a lake--
fresh water
(until I got there).


We watched the mallards and canada geese through your binoculars
even when they were two feet away.

We wondered at them and everything.




I wondered why you weren't more angry.
          You told me the ice was already cracked.

And then you said this felt like Refuge
and I slipped

into its arms.



-me-


____________________________________________________
____________________________________________________



"The eastern shore of Great Salt Lake is frozen, and for as far as I can see it translates into isolation[...]

Because of the high water level and drop in salinity, Great Salt Lake can freeze and does[...]

I want to see it for myself, wild exposure, in January, when this desert is most severe. The lake is like steel. I wrap my alpaca shawl tight around my face until only my eyes are exposed. I must keep walking to stay warm. Even the land is frozen. There is no give beneath my feet.

I want to see the lake as Woman, as myself, in her refusal to be tamed. The state of Utah may try to dike her, divert her waters, build roads across her shores, but ultimately, it won't matter. She will survive us. I recognize her as a wilderness, raw and self-defined. Great Salt Lake strips me of contrivances and conditioning, saying, "I am not what you see. Question me. Stand by your own impressions.

We are taught not to trust our own experiences. Great Salt Lake teaches me experience is all we have."

-Terry Tempest Williams, Refuge-

 

"One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires ...causes proper matters to catch fire...Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it.

If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

Do not lose heart. We were made for these times."

~Clarissa Pinkola Estes

"Welcome 2013... please be kind. Lend your healing power to those with hurting hearts, failing spirits and ailing bodies. Help us to embrace change while committing to empowering ritual and honored traditions. Allow us to understand the importance of making mistakes and push us to reach beyond our comfort zones. Teach us to recognize and nurture our individual gifts and how to best cultivate and celebrate the talents of those around us. Provide us with tools to create in better and more meaningful ways and eliminate our need and desire to destroy. Remind us to turn off the television, our cell phone, notepad, computer and game-boy and tune into the wonder of authentic dialogue, real conversation and heartfelt laughter. Give us permission to grieve fully, and cry and care too much. Remind us to express our feelings and shower the people we love with crazy acts and acknowledgements. Teach us that sentiment is a good thing. Allow us to see with the eyes of a child and soak in the joy and mystery of the first snow fall, the beauty of the stars, the playful call of mud puddle and intrigue of a potato bug. Tell us to make ourselves a priority and help us find the time to slow down so we can feed our spirit, nourish our soul and exercise our bodies. Help us savor the moment...relish the now...even when it is hard and challenging. Give us the strength to take a big, juicy and messy bite out of the year that stands before us. Welcome. So glad that you are here." -Jodi Kirk (a friend of a friend on facebook)